Fix You (Revised)
by AgeofLoneliness
Summary: Revised/Edited version. Please read author's note
1. Chapter 1

Fix You (Revised)

 **Okay guys, I know it's been so long and I'm deeply deeply sorry. Stuff happens, you know. Things come up and life keeps you busy. Anyways, why am I re uploading Fix You? Well, as the title says, it's been revised. I reread the old chapters and noticed a lot of mistakes so I decided to edit and rewrite some stuff. I'm posting in hopes you'll forgive me for my lack of posting and because I thought you might enjoy it. As for the final chapters to the original, I decided to rewrite it again because originally I was going to kill off Helena and it didn't seem fair to you guys to do that. I'm almost done and it looks like it's going to be a few more chapters to finish it. So to conclude, here's this edited version of the first chapter. Let me know your thoughts. Is it better? Worse? The same? Review and let me know.**

Chapter 1

"Not my sister! Take me! Please!"

Simmons' henchmen took hold of the young frightened girl and crudely pulled her off her chair. She writhed and kicked vividly whilst screaming haunting screams of terror.

Helena heaved as she emptied the little contents inside of her stomach. The memories were still fresh and very much alive. Playing over and over in her mind as if they had been set on repeat to torment her.

"I'll do anything! Please! Please!" Helena pleaded with desperation, begging the cruel man before her. She struggled against the restraints on her wrists in hopes to break free to no prevail. She could do nothing but watch as her beloved baby sister was dragged away, the door slamming shut with a deafening boom.

On her knees, on her bathroom floor, Helena moaned. Her head throbbed and ached and her skin felt blistering and tacky.

"Helena!"

Deborah's voice echoed loudly in her head making her gag and spew yet again. She groaned loudly afterwards as she laid her head to rest on her arm atop the toilet bowl. She panted heavily, her eyes shut tight. Another night of heavy drinking followed by another morning of the resulting sickness, but at least she was able to forget it, even if it was for just a short while.

Four months. It had only been four months since the incidents of Tall Oaks and China. Four months since the clearance of all charges. Four months since she had earned her freedom back. Four months since she had received the okay go to return to work. Four long miserable months.

At first, it had been easy. Mission after mission, Helena never had time to think yet alone remember what had happened. She had done it on purpose; volunteering, signing up, anything to keep her busy. Anything to keep her mind occupied and away from solemn thoughts. But then came the mandatory time off issued by the director himself after deemed temporarily mentally unstable in failing an obligatory psychological exam.

Since that day, Helena had gone from nonstop missions to nonstop drinking. All the images of Tall Oaks, of China, of Deborah's death drilled into her skull and completely overwhelmed her. The only thing she could think to do was drown in her sorrows. At first, a single bottle would do the trick, but as time passed she found she had to consume larger amounts of that precious alcohol to simply sleep at night.

And so, every day and night she would binge, drinking herself unconscious. She just wanted to forget. She wanted to forget the nightmare, the death of her sister, and somewhere along the way, her developed feelings for Leon. She wasn't sure how it'd happened, it just had.

Her body shaking, Helena groaned and leaned back against the bathtub, her bare back cooling itself from the cold surface. She found herself thinking of Leon. Sometime during Tall Oaks, she had realized she was falling for him.

Who could blame her? The man was gorgeous. The man was righteous. The man was caring. The man was compassionate. The man was responsible. The man was strong. The man was brave. The man was… the man was a man.

She forced down a moan of yearn and sighed deeply instead, her head leaning back against the tub. She kept her eyes closed to keep the light from stinging.

Why? Why did she do this to herself? Why did she torture herself with false hope of ever being with him? Wasn't the guilt of Deborah's death enough? She had high hopes her splurge of drinking would consume her guilt and maybe even the essence of herself, but her fortune was rather misfortunate.

For months, she waited and waited for death to come and take her away. It was what she felt she needed. What she felt she deserved. Yet, nothing. She was still here.

A distant knock pulled her from her morbid thoughts, hurling her back to her senses. It sounded again, the three hit rhythm. She remained immobile on the floor, uncaring who it was knocking on her front door. Eventually, whomever it was would tire and go away, leaving her alone to rot. Or so she hoped.

She did nothing as the door clicked open. She said nothing as she heard movement in the living room; she merely sat still and listened. She listened to the footsteps, muffled by the carpet. She listened to the slight ragged breathing and the deep velvet voice calling out her name. She knew that voice all too well.

In sudden, she gagged yet again and proceeded to retch into the toilet, coughing loudly. Once done, she panted and spit, never once looking up at the man standing at her bathroom door.

A sigh escaped his lips. "Helena, this has got to stop." Leon Kennedy shook his head as he took in the sight. He didn't want it to be true yet here it was. Helena Harper had become a lost soul. A soul so far away gone at times he wondered if she would ever come back. He took a towel off of the rack and approached her, kneeling down to one knee.

Helena groaned out his name as he placed the towel over her naked torso. She turned her head to him, her speech slurred, "W-what are you doing here?" He recoiled at the hotness of her breath. At such close proximity, he could smell the stench of the alcohol. He looked to her eyes, watery and bloodshot. He shook his head, she was drunk.

"Taking care of a friend." His voice was grave. He took her arm and placed it around his neck. He swept up her legs and let out a soft grunt as he stood, scooping her up into his arms. Feeling a wave of sickness, Helena propped her head back with a groan and closed her eyes.

Leon exited the bathroom, made his way down the hallway and toward the master bedroom. Gently, he set her down onto the unmade bed. "Just sleep it off, you'll feel better."

He was startled as she took hold of his suave chiseled face. He met her drunken gaze. She pulled him in close for a kiss. Not one to take advantage, he turned his head away, "Helena…"

She released a gruff grunt and pushed him away with incredible strength. He grunted and stepped back from the sudden action. Helena then turned onto her side and passed out, her head hitting the pillow.

Leon fixated his gaze on her and sighed, a bit of relief mixed into it. "Oh Helena." His voice was soft. He sighed yet again as he pulled the covers over her slender form. The mattress lowered under his weight as he sat down. "What's happened to you?" His voice carried a strong melancholic tone. "You were doing so well before…"

He reached and slipped a loose strand of her hair back behind her ear. "I've only been gone a week." Another sigh slipped past his lips, this one heavy. Why did he feel in his heart it was his responsibility to keep her safe? Why did it seem it was his duty? He couldn't explain it, any of it. He couldn't explain how important her safety and well being was to him or even why. He couldn't explain the need for it. Or why it was strong and powerful.

His face saddened. Oh Helena. It hurt him to see her this way, so broken and tormented. He never expected to feel such pain to see her bent over the toilet in a state of drunkenness. It reminded him of his own days of alcoholism. Those days were hell. Something he never wanted someone close to him, someone he cared deeply for to endure. Especially not alone.

He felt a pang of guilt rise in the pit of his stomach. It was difficult to discard it now; the fact he hadn't entirely done everything in his power to help Helena. Teach her how to properly deal with her alcoholism, her depression.

It wasn't up to him, his brain would often remind. And though he found himself agreeing, his heart would prompt him that he chose to be there. He chose to take her into his care. There was no obligation. No one was forcing him.

He used that knowledge to his advances to make himself feel better when Ada would suddenly appear in his life. His desire for her was too great, too overwhelming for him to bear. For days he would disappear. During his absence Helena would remain in the care of Chris whom had agreed after probed.

He retracted his phone from the pocket of his jacket. He dialed Chris's personal number, sighing as the operator announced its temporary disconnection. The phone was shut with a light clink. Chris was on assignment, out in the field. His disconnected number was a sure sign.

It only meant that Helena had been left alone for at least a week with no one to help her through her dilemma, keep her from drinking. Leon couldn't put any blame on Chris for Helena's state. Did it mean the blame was on him?

Another sigh, this time deeper, escaped his lips. Things had to change. He needed to be around longer and make sure to do more than just keep her safe. His phone rang and vibrated in his hand. Helena stirred with a soft moan. Quickly, Leon stood from the bed and stepped out into the hallway. "Kennedy." His voice was firm.

"Leon, how's she holding up?" Hunnigan's voice was full of worry. He took a quick peek into the room, grimacing as the door creaked. Helena remained still, eyes closed. "Not well" he sighed. "She relapsed." Hunnigan's sigh was heavy. "She was doing so well too." He could hear the hint of disappointment in her voice.

"Yeah" he agreed. His expression settled. "But I'm back now." A short silence developed before Hunnigan spoke. "Listen, I don't know if you knew but, Helena quit the USSS earlier this week."

"What?" Leon exclaimed, eyes wide in shock. "Why?"

"I wish I knew. She was only suspended for failure to report and botching her physical and psychological exams. I only found out when I filed your transfer request. I'm not sure what to do now."

Leon closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing softly. Why would she quit? "Forget the transfer then. Talk to Davis. Get him to consider her."

Hunnigan's voice was hesitant, "I don't know, Leon. It's not going to be easy."

"You'll think of something."

Her sigh was deep. "I'll see what I can do. She may have been cleared of the charges but her reputation isn't exactly best."

"I know you can pull it off. Keep trying Hunnigan." He cut the connection and pocketed the device. He gave a final glance to the still sleeping Helena and closed the door. He made his way back toward the living room.

The apartment held nothing extravagant, decorated pleasantly with practical modern furniture. The walls were an enjoyable soft pastel color, giving off a homely sentiment. Upon entering, the small kitchen stood to the right with the living room centered. To the left was the corridor where the two bedrooms and single bathroom were placed. All in all it was a comfortable home for two.

His eyes skimmed the spacy room, taking in the disastrous state he found it to be in. To say the apartment was dirty was an understatement. The place was completely chaotic. There were clothes scattered everywhere; on the floor and sofa and loveseat. Garbage and empty bottles of liquor joined the attire in cluttering the floor. The kitchen was in no better state; a mass of dishes piled along the counters, stove and even alongside the sink.

Leon shook his head, deeply saddened. How could Helena allow herself to live this way? In such a disgusting clutter. How could he allow it? He shook his head. He couldn't've known, he recapped. He couldn't've known.

Removing his favorite leather jacket, he hung it up upon the coat rack. Things were definitely going to change.

 **Review guys, let me know your thoughts!**


	2. Chapter 2

Fix You (Revised)

2.

"Alright!" Deborah's voice was filled with excitement and eagerness. With a wide grin, she set a plate stacked full of blueberry pancakes before her beloved sister. "You can open your eyes now."

With a smile of her own, Helena opened her brown orbs. "Ta-da!" Deborah exclaimed with a bounce, her arms up in the air. "Deborah," Helena chuckled, "You cooked?"

The younger Harper deadpanned, her arms dropping to the side as she pouted. Helena laughed at the reaction and wrapped her arms around her baby sister's waist, pulling her close. "I'm joking, sis." Deborah, secretly enjoying the embrace, smacked Helena a top the head lightly before breaking free of her hold and walking around the table to take a seat. "I believe the correct phrase is, Thank you Deborah for making me breakfast. You're the best sister in the whole world."

"You are the best sister" Helena reciprocated gazing into the same hazel eyes as her mother's, her own glinting with love. Her smile was warm and sincere. Deborah's nod of approval was curt. "Thank you."

The two sat in silence, staring at one another, for several moments before Deborah spoke. "Well…" she started. A confused look crossed Helena's features. "Well… what?"

"Aren't you going to eat?" Deborah queried. Eyebrows lifting, Helena eyed the pancakes with a skeptical look. "Well…"

Deborah sighed, "Well… what? It's not like I'm trying to poison you."

"Well how do I know that?"

Deborah stared back in stock and awe, mouth agape. "What?"

Helena's lips pulled into the slightest hint of a smirk. "How do I know you're not trying to kill me?" Deborah moved to stand before her, hands on her hips, and looked askance at her darling sister. "Why would I kill you when I still have use for you?"

Helena gasped, "Deborah!"

The younger Harper smirked. "Hey, the truth hurts."

Helena narrowed her eyes, Deborah recurring the action. The two stared at one another for several long silent moments before breaking off into laughter. The merriment stopped shortly however, as Deborah doubled over in pain with a sharp groan.

The elder Harper shot out from her seat, instantly at her sister's side. "Deborah!" The young girl held her sides, eyes shut tight. Helena's panic and fear rose tenfold as she watched Deborah writhe in agony before her, her cries deafening. Oh god, what could she do? She jumped back in shock as Deborah released a blood curling scream, her body erupting in flames. Her eyes widened in fear as she let out an agonized cry, "Deborah!"

She awoke in a jolt with a scream, shooting into an upright position, taking quick heavy breaths, her heart rapidly beating with the thrum of each beat echoing loudly in her ears. Deborah! Deborah! Her eyes frantically searched the disastrous vicinity, her sweat drenched body shaking intensely.

Nothing… no Deborah… calm down… relax… She slowed her breathing in attempts to compose herself, her hand instinctively reaching for the necklace around her neck, cradling it tightly with all her might. "Just a dream…" she whispered, shutting her eyes, "Just a dream…"

"Help me!" Deborah's terrified voice echoed.

Stifling a sob, Helena brought her hands up to her throbbing head with a groan. God, the pain… A gorilla going ape shit over a pair of bongo drums was really the only way she could think of to describe it. The pounding, so strong, so fierce, it hurt, so much, it hurt.

She sat in the deafening silence for several long moments, fighting the sting and forcing back the incoming memories. Not now. Please. Not now. She grit her teeth. She could see flashes in her mind. Simmons… Deborah… Tall Oaks… China… Leon… too much… it's too much…

Gone. Gone suddenly. The flashes dispersed and she found she could breathe, releasing a breath she hadn't realized she had been holding and heaved at the dryness of her mouth. She swallowed to clear the lump in her throat, cringing at the discomfort the action caused. Water. She needed water.

Crawling out of bed, Helena forced herself to her feet with a groan. Her legs were like jelly, wobbling. She moved to the wall and leant against it for support. Ugh, the floor was moving.

She took a moment before glancing at her surroundings; untidy bed, clothes scattered and littering the floor, a broken mirror and a cluttered dresser. What the hell was she doing in her bedroom? How the hell had she gotten here?

Faint memories of Leon picking her up from the bathroom floor and taking her to her bedroom flashed through her mind. Huh. Had it actually happened or had it been wishful thinking? It had to have happened, right? She was here in her bedroom when last she had been in the bathroom. She groaned and held her head. Her brain was hurting. Argh, this was certainly no time to think.

To hell with this, Helena thought as she forced herself off from the wall. She struggled with her balance as she walked forward, bending to pick up a discarded oversized red t-shirt with a logo for an auto parts store. It must have belonged to one of the many random men she had slept with during the week. Without bothering to check if the piece of attire was clean or not, she slipped it on and stumbled her way out of her room, down the corridor and toward the bathroom. She needed an aspirin, ASAP.

Her trek was rather long for such a short distance. In flicking the light switch on, she recoiled with a grunt, the light stinging her eyes. "Ugh!" She blinked rapidly her eyes adjusting quickly and staggered toward the sink, opening the medicine cabinet. She filled a small glass with water, her hand automatically reaching for the bottle of pills. Sighing, she popped two small white pills and drank eagerly, feeling the cool liquid make its way down her throat, taking some of the dryness with it. When finished, she closed the cabinet door and gasped upon seeing Deborah's reflection standing behind her, the glass in her hand falling from her grasp and shattering on the floor.

Helena turned around in a panic to find no one there. She quickly looked back into the mirror, seeing nothing. She turned and scanned the room, finding zilch. Had it been her imagination?

She glanced to the mirror once more, screaming as she yet again saw Deborah. In her panic and fear, she slipped on the bath rug toppling over and cutting her hand on the scattered glass in the process.

She hissed, groaning at the sharp pain as she gazed upon the blood seeping from the large cut. Oh, perfect! She sighed, throwing her head back against the wall in irritation. Just perfect.

She sat in sullen silence for several long moments, hating the broken glass, hating the stupid rug, hating the mirror, hating Deborah, hating her injured hand, hating… hating herself. She stared at the wound and watched the blood trail down from her wrist and to the tiled floor. It sure was an awful lot of blood… should she get up and treat the cut? Perhaps she should do nothing, as she was doing now, and maybe eventually she will bleed out and die. She laughed and shook her head at her ridiculous thoughts. She wouldn't die from an itty bitty cut. Ah, well, one can only dream, right?

With a grunt and a struggle, Helena eventually staggered to her feet. She pressed her bloody hand on the wall for support and made her way out from the bathroom and down the hallway, clenching her hand closed tight to keep the bloody mess from trickling. In the kitchen, somewhere in the cabinets, sat an unopened bottle of vodka with her name on it. Oh, just at the mere thought of it her mouth watered.

Her trek stopped as she came to Deborah's door, shut tightly and never opened since that day… that horrible, horrible day…

"Stay out of my life, Helena!"

She grimaced as she recalled Deborah storming off soon after, and then she was taken… she quickly shook her head and willed the memories away. The day was still young and she had yet to have a drink. She pressed on with a deep sigh, eyes shut to avoid looking at the empty walls; she'd taken down all pictures of herself and Debora, looking at them brought too much pain.

As she reached the living room, Helena tripped on her own feet and fell face forward with a thud and a grunt. She took a few seconds to recollect herself, rolling onto her back and sitting up to look around. Her eyes widened in disbelief. The curtains were open, allowing enough light into the room for her see the whole apartment had been cleaned spotless. What in the hell…?

She turned at the sound of a click and watched as the door swung open with a soft creak. Leon entered the apartment, gasping upon finding her on the floor. Immediately he set the several shopping bags down and rushed to her side, kneeling on one knee. "Are you okay?" He checked her for injuries as she groaned and swatted his hands away. "I'm fine" she barked gruffly, "Get off me!"

He took hold of her and helped her to her feet. "I'd ask how you're feeling but I think I have my answer." She snatched her hand away and that was when he saw the blood. He looked down at his at own hand, brow furrowed. "Helena."

"What?" she responded, her tone curt.

"You're bleeding" he stated.

"It's nothing" she countered, "Leave it alone."

Saying nothing, Leon left down the hall returning moments later from the bathroom with a first aid kit. He took her arm and guided her toward the sofa, sitting her down.

She clenched her hand shut, "I said leave it alone!"

"Let me see" he said firmly, taking her wrist and squeezing to force her to comply. Being coarse with her was something he hated to do, but was the only thing he could do to get her to submit. When she finally did, he breathed out a low, "Jesus," at the amount of blood. With a shake of his head, he pulled her up and led her to the kitchen. Helena sighed and allowed him to. What was the use in fighting him?

"We should wash it out first" he said as he lifted her up effortlessly and set her on the counter. She said nothing as he switched the faucet on. She did however, flinch at the cold water upon contact with her skin. Moments after, the water was switched off and Leon left to retrieve the kit from the couch.

Helena looked to the gash. It didn't appear too deep, at least from what she could see. It was almost superficial. She didn't look up when she heard him return. Nor when he took her hand in his grasp. She merely remained silent.

"So, what happened?" he queried, "How did you get this cut on your hand?" He observed the wound, going all across her hand, from one end to the other. "Looks like an abrasion. Doesn't look like you'll need stitches." He glanced up at her. Her attention was elsewhere, her eyes searching, looking everywhere and anywhere but his direction.

"What?" she said as she seemed to come out of her trance. She hissed as he tended to the wound, dapping it clean with a cloth soaked with alcohol. "Your hand," he replied, "How'd you cut it?" She stiffened at the burning pain. She rather that than to focus on his touching her. "I… uh, cut it when I fell."

Leon picked up on her brusque tone and sighed, deciding to simply drop the subject, knowing he wouldn't get much from her. "Well, you should be more careful." Helena's brows furrowed in anger. "Don't baby me." She retracted her hand crudely after he finished placing a bandage over it.

"I wasn't" he sighed. He walked off and shut the apartment door, locking it, a cautionary action he had picked up over the years. "Do you want something for the pain? Your headache?"

Helena jumped down from the counter. "No. I already took some aspirin, just waiting for it to kick in." She walked past him as he entered the kitchen with the forgotten shopping bags in arm. He nodded and set the bags on the counter, moving on to place the groceries away. "Suit yourself."

Helena sighed and sat on the couch, shutting her eyes. Leon glanced in her direction every so often, observing her. Her head rested against the sofa, her body sinking into it. He should say something to her. But what? She was in a mood. Doesn't matter, his conscience spoke. He cleared his throat. What he said was, "I'm sorry I wasn't here when you woke up." What he thought, I'm sorry I haven't been here, at all.

Helena waved him off and said nothing in regards to him, instead saying, "Can you bring me the vodka? It's in one of the cabinets." Leon's sigh was quiet. He finished his task, took a bottle of water, and approached her. "Have some water instead, you need to hydrate your body." The bottle was slipped into her hands as he sat down beside her.

She made no attempt to open it. "You didn't have to do all of this." He took the bottle, opened it, and set it against her lips. "I know" he said as he tipped the bottle up. He watched her drink. He'd given her no choice after all. "By the way," he said as he lowered and closed off the bottle, "I expect it to stay this way. Clean."

She chuckled shortly, a small grin pulling at her pink chapped lips. He felt gratified in being able to make her smile. It seemed a bit of the old Helena was still alive in there, somewhere.

He offered her the bottle again. "Drink some more." She did, much to his surprise. She usually fought him with everything. He watched her, his eyes inadvertently skimming down her body. The foreign shirt she wore hugged her figure and paraded how large her bust was.

Helena sighed, lowering the bottle once again, and shifted her position. She crossed her legs, lifting one long smooth statuesque leg over the other. The action had Leon's eyes drifting even further down to her shapely hips. He hummed and quickly averted his eyes when he realized he was staring, forcing his mind to think of other things, of anything.

He went stiff as Helena placed her head in his lap. His heart rate picked up. Even his palms grew sweaty. Odd. That's never happened. What should he do? He could say something, but what? Anything. But what? "Who does the shirt belong to?"

He mentally struck himself. Was the best he could come up with? Why was he at such a loss for words? He felt Helena shrug. "I don't know" she said, "Probably one of the many I slept with."

The sudden pang of hurt shocked him. Jealousy rose in the pit of his stomach, appalling him. How strange. He found himself saddened and unsure why. He was bothered. Had it been what she'd said? No. It couldn't have been. What did it matter if she slept with others? No. No. It had to have been that she was letting herself be used in such a crude manner that bothered him, not that she slept with other men. He blinked. There it was again, other men. What did he mean by other men?

Helena's groan stirred him from his thoughts. He looked down to her pain stricken pale face. "Is it your hand or head?"

"My head."

He brushed his large fingers through her slightly unkempt hair, massaging her scalp and she let out a sigh of content, a small smile forming on her lips. "That feels good." She reached up and took hold of his free hand and coalesced their fingers. He smiled at the intimacy of the contact.

The silence that settled between them was comfortable, earnest and secure and oh how he enjoyed it. He could linger here forever, enjoying her company. Liking that everything seemed well.

"Were you with Ada?"

Her sudden question ceased his caress and overrode him with guilt. He closed his eyes as a somber expression crossed his features. He had known all along what was coming yet hearing it now he realized he was not at all prepared. What to do? His choices were evident, he could play off her question, pretend he hadn't heard or he could simply tell her the truth. But how could he tell her that after a three day mission he had spent the rest of his time away with Ada?

Oh god it was true. His silence was answer enough. What she'd been fearing was true. He had been with her. She frowned, feeling as if she had been slapped across the face and stabbed in the back. He'd been gone a whole week to be with Ada and knowing that broke her heart, shattered it completely. She closed her eyes and forced back her tears. Was it wrong to feel wronged? Abandoned? Alone?

She sighed, mortified, and removed herself from Leon's grasp, standing up. He frowned at her actions, finding he suddenly missed her warmth. Missed her. He glanced up at her, hurt and anger reflected in her eyes. "I need a drink" she growled. He reached out, taking her hand. She broke free and sauntered off never once sparing him a glance. "There isn't any left" he sighed. "I threw it all out."

She stopped in her tracks and turned to look at him in shock. "What?" His face was set harder than stone and somehow she knew he wasn't lying. Yet still, she shook her head and rushed to the kitchen, throwing all three sets of cabinet doors open. "No. no. no. no." She rummaged wildly through its contents of canned and packaged foods. How could this be? Her eyes darted back and forth in a panic fury. "No… no…"

"Helena, stop." An arm snaked around her waist, pulling her back. "Stop." Helena released a frustrated cry, struggling in his hold. "No!" She sobbed. "How-how could you do this?" She inhaled sharply, dropping to her knees. "I need it!"

Oh god. Leon bent down to her level and held her in his arms as tight as he could. Her cries of desperation were breaking his heart. He'd never seen her so broken… helpless… defeated.

"Please, Leon… I need it… I need it bad." She wrapped her arms around him, sobbing harder. "Why, Leon?"

"Oh Helena…" Leon's voice was strained.

"I feel so alone."

"But you're not. You have me." Leon pulled away, placing his large hands on either of her cheeks. "Look at me Helena." She did so, her vision blurry from her tears which were wiped away by Leon's thumbs. He gazed deeply into her eyes. "You're not alone." His voice was soft. "You hear me? You're not. I'm here with you."

She could see the fire in his eyes. He meant every word he said and that only made her fall for him more. Sorrow filled her to the core. She would never have him. Another sob escaped from her throat.

Leon scooped her up into his arms and walked back to the sofa. He sat down and held her close, his arms wrapped around her protectively. His role was to remain cool, calm, and collected. Not just for her sake, but his own. She was feeble and needed a rock, someone to keep her grounded and in check.

"Why are you doing this?"

God, her voice sounded so frail. He rested his head atop of hers and let out a breath, his eyes closed. "Because I… I care so much for you Helena. I can't explain it but… you grew on me. I have to keep an eye on you. I _need_ to keep an eye on you."

Her thoughts asked the question of why? What she said instead was, "Thank you." What more could she say? She glanced up at him, catching the sincerity in his eyes. Oh those eyes, she could get lost in those eyes. She moved in close, face mere inches away from his, but stopped before her lips could brush his own, it taking every fiber of her being not to do so. Instead she placed a kiss on his cheek.

As much as she wanted, she couldn't. She couldn't cross the line of their friendship. She wouldn't be able to handle the rejection. With a quiet sigh she placed her head over his chest, inhaling his musky chest and closed her eyes, her body unwinding. His steady heart beat lulled her into a dreamless sleep.

Leon released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding and held Helena closer. Her little episode had him frightened, never having seen her in such a way before. Her dependency on alcohol worried him. He could lose her at any moment, he came to realize and it shook him cold. He couldn't lose her. He refused. He needed her just as much as she needed him.

He glanced down to her as she shifted in his arms. Oh Helena, you poor beautiful broken soul. No, not broken, just troubled. He watched her sleep, amazed at her transition from hysterics to ease. Hm. She looked herself when sleeping.

The chiming of the clock caught his attention. Leon looked up to the wall, noticing the clock was the only thing there. It was late into the evening he saw, realizing he'd spent most of the afternoon cleaning the apartment and running her errands.

His stomach growled and he recognized he hadn't eaten in hours. Glancing down to Helena, he frowned. She hadn't eaten in days. He knew by the amount of garbage he had cleaned out, nothing but empty liquor bottles and rotten food. She needed to eat. He needed to eat. But she slept so sound. Oh was she going to hate him for waking her up.


End file.
